Woes of a God
by NoodlesofVictory
Summary: Orihara Izaya, captured by the worst of Ikebukuro's cults, is brought into the deepest reaches of the Underground. Sanctified as a God by his "worshippers", Izaya slowly loses his grip on reality. Warnings inside.
1. Absolutism

**Warnings: Homosexual relationships, mind breakage, explicit sexual situations, among other adult themes. Listing all the warnings would take forever. You have been warned.**

Echoing hollowly on the alley walls, a young man's quick, hurried strides met the pavement of south Ikebukuro. Jaw clenched nervously, he turned into Russia Sushi to find the back of a furred hood jacket, reclining on a barstool at the counter. Sighing with relieved tension, he approached the young man eating a plate of tuna sushi. Fishing a manila envelope out of his bag, he transferred it to the waiting hands of the slim male, appearing to be a few years older than himself. Bright, ruby eyes regarded him questioningly.

"This would be..?" a smooth, almost feminine, voice inquired. A mocking smirk curved thin lips at the corners. Delicate hands popped the seal and pulled out a collection of documents. As he skimmed over the writing, the messenger thought it a good time to speak.

"A pre-payment from my employer, Orihara-san. She has…things she would like to know. I was instructed to deliver this envelope." Perspiration beaded the Yakuza member's forehead. This man was dangerous. Calculating, obsessed with his fellow humans. No, not even that. He thought himself above them, considered himself a god. Being face to face only confirmed this; the narcissist's narrowed eyes scanning the kanji, his ever-present smirk deepening when he was finished. Slipping the bundle into his jacket pocket, Izaya Orihara left without another word.

_Oh, what trouble my dear humans have gotten themselves into~! _Izaya thought as he hummed a tune, skipping deeper into the heart of Ikebukuro. Human trafficking, hmm? My poor, poor humans, fighting among themselves like this... a light frown marred his face for merely a moment, before it vanished with the screaming of the one thing that could ease his boredom.

"IZAAAAYAAAAAAA! WHERE DO YOU THINK YOU'RE GOING?!" The furious snarl echoing from down the street made Izaya giggle. Poor Shizu-Chan, he's lost his way. Izaya was, of course, aware of area around them. This part of town was not the cleanest, nor the safest. Being here in itself was a big risk, and what would a 'respectable bartender' be doing here? Surely there was a tree he needed to urinate on?

Squealing with mirth, the louse weaved his way through the streets, dancing out of the way of signposts and trash cans, many with gang symbols spray-painted on their sides. By the time he had reached his destination, Izaya was quite out of breath. Stepping daintily over a stop sign embedded in the cement, he was fairly surprised when there was very suddenly a ring of men around him.

Puzzled, Izaya tipped his head at them. These were certainly not the type of humans he saw every day. These ones were different from his usual beloved masses. They wore the same clothes, although this in itself was not particularly strange. It was the choice of outfit that befuddled him. Dark cargo pants, with black tank tops. Noticing the small eight star necklaces on each thug, Izaya frowned deeper.

_Satanists, perhaps? My, these humans are surely strange. That's alright, though. I love my humans in all of their forms._ Smiling lovingly, he steadied to kick their asses, when he noticed the looks on their faces. The looks centered on him went from focused...to reverent looking, almost…worshiping. Now thoroughly confused, Izaya studied them closer. The leader was gazing at him in adoration, the way devout people… look at their gods. Now cautious, Izaya glanced at his attire. It was slightly different than that of his cronies.

This one wore a different necklace, one of an eight pointed star with two squares intersecting. But the centerpiece is what caught Izaya's attention. In the middle rested what looked like a body, eyes half lidded. The hands were placed to the sides, almost in a spread eagle position. Despite the whole picture of sexual need, the face looked almost…bored. A condescending, leering look. The now most unnerving fact was that the body struck a shocking similarity…to himself.

Now slightly disturbed, the brunette glanced around at all of them, contemplating his route of escape. Before a plan had formed, two of the thugs lunged together. Frowning at the pathetic attempt, Izaya spun and caught one of them in the jaw. His heel ground into the miscreant's chin, while the other one cussed violently at the three pocket blades studding his chest.

What Izaya had not been counting on was the sudden restriction on his arms. Turning to glower at the offender, he didn't notice the one he had been crushing flip his ankle, tripping him and his body smashing into the pavement. Izaya managed to get one good head-butt in before a foul smelling rag was pushed into his face.

The last thing he glimpsed were heads bowed in his direction, hands clasped together. A slow, steady hum of voices accompanied him into unconsciousness.

**Aha! My first chapter ever! I'm so exciteeeeeeeeeeed! I can't wait to see if any of my idols reads and or praises it! Ok, ok, so this story gets downright weird in a few chapters. (Specifically the next one). I would love your comments! Any suggestions for the next chapter? Yes, I'm aware that I was given a plot, but what fun is there if you can't add a bit of your own stuff?**

**I love you all! Reviews are the life force of my story(s)!**

**And also, W.T.H. None of my stories are being updated! I make changes, save them, and nothing happens! NOTHING! I swear to god I edited this thing two days ago and nothing has changed. With ANY and ALL of my stories the same thing keeps happening. I'm gonna complain to someone, seriously. This is just not cool. Embarrassing mistakes I can't fix? Lame.**


	2. Sanctify

**I am so sorry. Working on this has sapped me, and I just have…run out of ideas. I NEED **_**INSPIRATION**_**, PEOPLE! Review! I need some help here…-_-**

Awareness came after an hundred years, it seemed, his first glimpse of reality being a high vaulted ceiling. Dark stone lined the entire area he could view. Gentle chanting reverberated around the room, his very bones vibrating despite the low volume. The second revelation was a much less comforting one.

He couldn't move.

Shit.

Tight bindings weaved over his torso, and pinned his arms behind his back. His clothes…what on earth had happened to his clothes?! His bare form shivered on the smooth stone of the altar he rested on. Struggling against the apparent restriction of his person, he was interrupted by the sound of…bells?

The deep, almost sensual tone of the bells made him shiver with fear, and strangely, anticipation. Anticipation to see what his humans were doing. Assuming the beings singing such a morbid song were indeed, humans. A voice higher in pitch caught his focus, and stretching up as much as could in his current position, peered over the side of the table he was currently strapped down to.

His heart nearly stopped.

Three bare, young women swayed to the pounding voices, their eyes glazed and glassy. Crowns of woven nightshade were braided into their hair. Their arms swung as they staggered around a smaller altar positioned at the corner of an angle inscribed on the floor. That design... Izaya thought with dread, it looks like… snapping his head to the side, Izaya froze. On each side of the tablet he occupied, another corner jutted out, and on each corner three naked women danced like drunks around an altar. Drunk off the berries and white powder scattered on a plate placed on said altars, most likely. There were eight corners…The same as that necklace the human was wearing, he mused. He stretched his neck up, finally getting a good look at his restraints.

The binds were of interwoven leather, his knees bent and his delicate calves tied to his thighs. The crisscross design of the black hide was reminiscent of ribbons ballerinas decorated their legs with. His thin wrists were bound behind his back, in the same manner as his legs, with thin, black leather strips. They were very strong for such thin material, for no matter his efforts, he could not loosen them. The seemed to be increasing in volume, and finally the pattern changed. However, it took a turn for the worse.

The head priest of the disturbing display lifted his hood and raised his arms to the ceiling. The dancers stilled, trembling in their unsteadiness. Without warning, the six priests of each altar turned upon each girl, blade in hand.

They didn't stand a chance.

They all pinned the girls down to the slippery, blood covered floor, a dagger embedded in each of their throats. The priests spent no time ripping into the girls with their mouths, the few still conscious shrieking in agony. Among the sounds of the anarchy, the priest, who Izaya recognized as the leader of thugs from before, started to sing. It was a strange language, raspy and somewhat slurred. Izaya knew it wasn't Japanese, but he found himself still understanding the meaning.

_"My lord we conceive you_

_there upon thy sacred throne,_

_before us mortals, scrounge of earth._

_Thy will take a mortal forme,_

_to deliver us to sanctuary._

_We bend to thee, O' Lord of Night_

_son of lust and hate,_

_a matrimony of unholy right!_

_Death to thee, you heathen scum,_

_drunken off your drink of light and sun._

_Our prince hath come,_

_His right unquestioned."_

The priest seemed to be done, his hands quivering. Izaya frowned around the black cloth placed between his lips. This man was…referring to…him? The priest started up again, this time with a fury. His brows furrowed, and he raised his slightly insane eyes to Izaya's form on the altar, some ten feet above them. Almost on a cue, Izaya's bonds tightened, his body lurching off the smooth stone and upright against his will, until he faced all of his 'subjects'. This time they all joined in, their voices slightly demonic with the blood of virgins dripping from their chins and lips.

_**"Burdened with the blood of ash,**_

_**astride the midnight oxen.**_

_**From wrathful thou'est rise.**_

_**To claim thy kingdom come."**_

It seemed to be over, finally. The priest ascended the steps slowly, in his hand a chalice of dark red liquid. That's not…what I think it is, is it? The priest reached him, hand shakily coming up to untie the gag. The second it was undone, Izaya spit at the man, his eyes flaring. The spittle hit him on the cheek, dripping down the man's chin, smearing the blood there, the saliva hueing towards pink. The priest didn't seem to mind. Tightly gripping Izaya's chin, the thick liquid was poured into Izaya's mouth and held there. Izaya had no choice but to swallow.

He had been right. The salty tang of iron slid down his throat, sickening him. More chanting ensued as the priest turned and addressed the others in that same strange language, Izaya coughing behind him. _"My dear brothers,"_ He began, _"Our lord Hachemroppi has returned to us."_ He turned and glanced to Izaya's scowling face, his own blank. Three others came up behind him; their faces alight with some kind of fierce joy.

Izaya's eyes were wide, finding himself unable to do anything when his bindings were hacked off. His body was numb; he couldn't force himself to _move_, when it struck him. The blood.

Those girls… had been high, infested with toxins. Drinking their drug intoxicated blood must've been acting as the perfect aphrodisiac, keeping him immobile and horny as hell!

"_My Lord~"_ one purred, rubbing his hardness against Izaya's aching front. Izaya ripped his head forward to knock the offender away, his face dripping blood from the impact. Another cultist came up from behind when he was distracted with the asshole, his eyes maniacal. He shoved his dripping length deep inside the 'deity' without remorse.

"AH! Stop it! Take it out! T-take it out! _Hya_-AH! _mhm_..." Izaya was unable to control the sounds out of his mouth, figure twisting in shame. He bit his lip so hard it split. He hated them! Hated them with every fibre of his being.

But…he loved humans, didn't he? Shouldn't he be laughing at their pathetic attempt to show their dominance?

The agony of being ripped apart was subdued, the blood in his system making him indifferent to pain. There was no touching or kissing, just one cock after another in his face, in his hole, again and again cumming inside him, on his face, everywhere.

After a while, it became nothing but a swirl of faces, cum and pleasure. His hatred morphed, into something he couldn't understand. That hatred, when strong and deep enough, can become something else entirely.

Suddenly turning on one of those waiting their turn, he deepthroated them, his eyes rolling into the back of his head. "H-holy shit!" the man cried, twitching in the ex-informants mouth. Izaya could care less, taking in cocks like an occupation, again and again. At one point, one cock turned to two in his ass, the two members rubbing together inside him.

"A-ah!" _It's s-starting to f-feel incredible~!_ He thought, unable to speak or make sounds other than the occasional gasp for air. Izaya rubbed the two cocks near his front with his hands, seated on the laps of the ones fucking him. Taking one in his mouth, Izaya swallowed his reward of cum greedily, wanting nothing else.

After being fucked by twenty-four cocks and sucking off thirty-seven, Izaya finally got some rest. The cultists gathered smiles adoringly at him. The head priest spoke.

_"Look at them, my Lord. They love you, even at your most lowly state. We will never leave you, we will always love you. Please, accept our offerings, and give us your blessings"*._ Too tired to even blink, Izaya watched with a wary eye as they cleaned him off, the warm towels doing wonders for the bruises marking his hips and face. Restrained and exhausted, he relaxed limply as he was hoisted into the air, and left alone. Finally by himself, Izaya came to terms with what he had just done.

Not a word came out of his mouth. Just heavy, silent despair.

**Oh, I'm just too evil! Breaking Izaya's mind so quickly into the story! I feel bad now. Should I post another chapter? I know it didn't have bestiality in it, but...I dunno. I was gonna have a bull fuck him, but for my first lemon, I decided to go more...traditional. You like? You review! ;)**


	3. Resolution

**Okay, okay, people. Since this is my first story, I've decided to do a sort of…epilogue, shall we say. It won't be very long, I'm sorry... (This is set a few years after his capture.) As for future stories, I have a few in the oven. Oh, there might be bestiality, but not the bull I had originally planned. **

Laying cold eyes on the man trembling and bound before him, Izaya slid the lovely black blade between his fingers, bringing it down upon the man's skull. The resulting crack would have disturbed him, long ago when he had been mortal. He would have sneered at the sound, laughed at the humans, their pitiful attempts to control one another. Now, he had shed his mortal form, taken on his divine state. Hot fresh blood seeped through the man's skin, Izaya's mouth wetting at the sight. He bent down, raking his teeth across the now very dead man's cranium, ripping skin away. Reveling in the bloody bone beneath, he swept down and bit down _hard_.

Blood and brain matter gushed into his mouth. Humming, he stood up, bothering to wipe the red stains off. Izaya turned to his beloved worshippers. Their heads were bowed in prayer, chanting rising to a deafening level. Drool slapped to their chins, the human flesh they had feasted on maddening them. Swallowing with a satisfied sigh, he raised his hands. The cultists started at the gesture, falling upon the unfortunate humans brought from the surface. The rich, the famous. Flesh fell from their bones in minutes, the corpses left behind nearly bare of muscle. As it was, the brain matter settling in Hachemroppi's stomach belonged to the mayor of Ikebukuro. He raised an eyebrow one of the few people left, eyes wide as saucers. The long brown hair and gray eyes, centered in a delicate face struck a memory in Izaya/Hachemroppi. Heiwajima…Kasuka, his name was. Where had he…? Yes, yes…the kid brother of the monster of Ikebukuro! Hachemroppi smiled giddily. Oh, what fun he could have now! He motioned the young man closer. Kasuka shivered, shaking his head and refusing the request. Three of his worshippers moved in, livid at the disrespect shown to their Lord, while Izaya glowered.

Forced to his feet, Kasuka stumbled towards the base of the stairs. He fell to his knees before the furious deity. Hachemroppi scowled, and turned to one of his followers. The woman bowed humbly, her face curious and reverent. Hachemroppi glanced at Kasuka, eyes coldly amused. The young man froze.

"That one," He pointed at Kasuka. "He has an older brother. Find him." The woman's eyes were respectfully blank. She turned and descended the stairs, gathering thirty or so men. "I want him _alive._" He leered venomously, as an afterthought. His followers had a habit of getting…messy. She bowed in understanding.

To say that Shizuo Heiwajima was pissed off was an understatement. That his brother had been kidnapped by a satanic nutjobs was enough to have him busting an artery. Turning down another alley, he stumbled when a sharp pain stabbed his shoulder. Whipping to face the culprit, he was somewhat surprised to find a girl a little younger than himself.

She was a strange one, this girl. Her hair was short and chopped. Her eyes were a glassy ruby color. This girl, she had nerve. It pissed him off. Before he could lunge, an arrow pierced his other shoulder. The arrow was black, with a wicked looking barb. The arrow was attached to a chain, which was fastened to the ground quickly. Moving to rip it out, his arm was pinned to the concrete with a second arrow. The second's chain was also pounded into the cement. Arrow after arrow gradually pinned him to the ally ground, to a point where all his strength could do nothing.

"B-bitch, _you-"_ He stopped, the girl now standing before him pulling out a needle filled with a light blue liquid. He started to pull against the chains, blood spurting from around the arrow shafts. Concrete groaned and hairline cracks appeared. She paid no heed, sticking the needle into his jugular. His brown eyes dulled, His consciousness swaying. His body started to feel warm. Too warm. His eyelids felt heavy. She tutted, reaching into her bag for a needle.

"No no, little sacrifice. Stay here. You are not ready for our Lord's table." She bent down, running her nails across his cheek. Blood beaded the skin, following her fingers. Growling, Shizuo jerked his head away, too sluggish to resist the arrows being ripped out of him, his clothes removed. He couldn't fight. She smiled, bending down to face him. Her face blurred at the edges.

"_Hush, lamb. Your time is coming." _

**Ha-ha, not the bull I was planning. He **_**is **_**more beast than human. So, technically, it **_**is**_** bestiality. TROLOLOL! So, what's going to happen to poor Shizu-chan? I'm letting YOU decide! Either PM if it's too embarrassing, or write a review. Either way, if nobody says anything, assume he will be eaten. You Shizu fans wouldn't want **_**that**_**, right? And yeah. I KNOW it's short. I'm really tired, and I've got to be in bed by one. Besides, I couldn't put anything after that last line! The suspense would be **_**ruined**_**!**


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